All is Lost (All Series, Book 2)

by Marie Wathen

  A flirtatious smile breaks across her face and once again I see remnants of the sexy girl I discovered at a crowded Vegas bar only forty-eight hours ago. Enlightened by the effects I have on her, I devise an abbreviated plan to our dilemma.

  “Let's get out of here tonight.” I say, pulling away from her. “We can find a seeded country bar and forget this shit for a few hours.” I coax, knowing that neither one of us will forget a damn thing about our chance meeting.

  She cocks an eyebrow up and as if she flipped a switch, that damn niggling sensation buzzes loudly alerting me again of a familiarity with her. I wonder briefly if it really was only a chance meeting, or if I’m playing along with some mastermind’s evil plans.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Breesan

  I hear the back door open followed by heavy footsteps stomping on the hardwood floor. Turning around, I see Marcus walking toward me. His features are dark and it causes me to become uneasy.

  “What's wrong?” I ask him, no longer concerned with Rhys' presence or of exposing our relationship. He sidles up and wraps me in his arms, instantly calming from our embrace.

  “Breesan, please remember that you don't have to do any of this if you don't want to, okay?” Marcus suggests, imploring me with his eyes to turn down Rhys’ offer.

  “Just tell me already,” I beg, exhausted with this whole damn mess. “What does Rhys want me to do that you obviously object to?”

  “We want you to go undercover.” Rhys blurts casually, and I see a flare of fear in Marcus’ eyes.

  “Undercover? Okay. Am I missing something because that kind of sounds cool?’ I ask, smiling excitedly. Marcus shakes his head and Rhys laughs. “What? Just say it Marcus.”

  Rhys walks around the counter and sits in the chair at the table. He shrugs his shoulders then finally responds. “You are my cousin Beatrice from Chelsea. You have been through some shit recently with an ex, and now you've come here to get away, while the police try to apprehend him.” He smirks, adding, “We'll call him Jeff. Being the amazing cousin that I am, I graciously agreed on letting you stay here, as long as you find a job. I don't support moochers.” His smirk morphs into a concerned grin. “This is where the undercover part comes in. You will work as a server at Club Toxic.” He pauses, waiting for my reaction.

  I nod and he continues explaining my role. “Going undercover as a goth babe, you can safely search the faces or listen for familiarity in the voices of people who frequent the club. Hopefully you will find the guys that took your friends. Attacus’ informant puts the contact location at the club. Since you are the only person who has seen them, we are going to leave it up to you to point them out.” I nod, understanding the severity of my responsibility.

  Glancing between me and Marcus, Rhys asks, “So Ms Maxwell, are you up for doing anything I say, now?” His condescending tone does not go unnoticed by Marcus, but before he has a chance to attack Rhys I answer him.

  “When do we go shopping?”

  Rhys smiles at my question, but Marcus' quick intake of breath startles me. Feeling the tension rolling off him I turn to him and take his hand, lacing our fingers together.

  “I assume you will be with me, right?” I ask.

  “Oh, you're damn right about that, Baby. You aren’t going anywhere without me.” He says dominatingly. Lifting my chin, Marcus’ eyes are dead serious when he adds. “Not one place without me. Understand?” I nod and the tension eases from Marcus’ face. “We’ll have to disguise you in my clothes and you’ll need a ball cap that will hide all of this hair.” He holds a strand between his fingers and I bite down on my bottom lip suppressing the excitement I get watching him become mesmerized.

  “How are you going to get me a job at the club?” I ask Rhys distracting myself from naughty thoughts.

  “My roommate runs the place. Ensley will hire you because I ask her to do it. Don’t worry about her recognizing you. She doesn’t pay attention to a damn thing significant. In the meantime Beatrice Bentley needs to bone up on your Bentley family history.” He smirks, takes a deep breath and begins rambling. “Ma and Pa Bentley were married at the old courthouse in Columbiana back in nineteen hundred and sixty-four.”

  Marcus grunts, cutting Rhys off before he can finish his family history lesson. He turns toward the dining room, dragging me behind him. After a few moments of hearty laughter, Rhys continues providing useless information that quickly becomes a mumble as we get farther away.

  I was actually kind of interested in knowing a little about the handsome and strange Rhys Bentley; but as we walk along, I notice that Marcus is guiding me toward the stairs. I smirk inwardly, knowing that he's taking us to the bedroom, and he has already promised me that he isn’t leaving me alone.

  Inside my room, he closes and locks the bedroom door. My heart rate speeds up at the clicking sound of the lock sliding into place. I feel the heat reddening my cheeks and suddenly I am a nervous wreck. Needing a little buffer between us, I walk over to the bed and climb up. The massive four-poster bed sits high off the floor, too high for someone of my petite stature. Steps would really be helpful, but I don’t complain. Instead, I crawl on my knees into the middle of the bed before turning around and sitting down.

  Marcus stands frozen by the door, eyes locked on me. A dazed and dreamy look possesses his features and it knocks the breath out of me. Instantly my body heats with excitement. Until I notice that his hands are clenched into tight fists, hanging stiffly by his side. His blue eyes smolder dark and his nostrils flare with what appears as anger.

  His peculiar and rapid transformation causes me to feel self-conscious. I grab a pillow and lay it across my lap, seeking refuge behind it. I avert my eyes, staring at nothing in particular on the comforter under me. Marcus stomps past the bed, going into the bathroom. He roughly shuts the door behind him, sealing himself away from me. After a few minutes I begin to wonder if he is going to hide in there all night. Finally, I hear the bathroom door open and hold my breath, fearing his reasons for avoiding me.

  Instead, I feel the bed dip behind me followed by his hands, wrapping gently around my waist. Butterflies take flight in my stomach from a spark ignited by his warm hands sliding over my sensitive flesh. He slides them under the pillow, laying them on the tops of my thighs. His hot chest presses against my back and I feel weak from the pulsing that begins upon our contact. Instinctively I relax against him and lightly place my hands on top of his arms. He leans his head over my shoulder allowing my head to roll back and lie against the curve of his neck. The heat from his body combined with his breath on my shoulder arouses me and something in my head assures me that what we are doing is acceptable.

  “Ah hell Baby,” Marcus growls deeply, forcing his face into my hair and taking a deep breath. The profound base in his voice rushes sharp, electric tingles from my ear all the way to my overheated core. I'm panting heavily and he's only been touching me for thirty seconds.

  “Breesan, I really need to be a good boyfriend and let you sleep in this bed alone. But I can’t. I'm a selfish bastard because I don't want you sleeping without me, ever again.” He nuzzles his nose behind my ear and adds. “Since last night when I crawled into bed with you all I want is to sleep next to you every night, and wake up watching the sunrise with you every morning. I understand that you're probably not used to sleeping with someone, and this is definitely moving extremely too fast,” Marcus sighs before continuing. “But I don't think I can sleep without your warm body pressed against me.”

  Oh, my damn heart.

  His words hit a power source deep inside me, which no one has ever even come in the vicinity of, let alone tapped into like Marcus does. Turning around to face him, I rise up on my knees and move out of his embrace.

  Oh, mylord he's not wearing a shirt and he is stunning. His shoulders are wide with swollen muscles that are the epitome of strength, as if he is carrying the weight of the world on them. Several tattoos command my attention. Over Marcus’ left chest, lying strategi
cally over his heart, there are four Roman numeral symbols embedded with four deep crawl marks inked over them, like he was trying to rip that time from his heart. His left arm is almost a full sleeve with a fusion of symbols and art, including several beautiful faces. But the most dominate artwork is the large dragon head crawling up from his back, over his right shoulder and down the front of his chest, just above his dark, hard nipple. The intricate details and brilliant colors form a bold work of art, and my fingers ache to trace every line of it. My desire to quench the carnal need is almost at the point of painful. I scan the power resonating off the dragon and I melt anticipating Marcus being this powerful in bed.

  Continuing to appreciate Marcus’ body art, I gasp softly, noticing a scroll of calligraphy scripture running under his right arm down the side of his rib cage reaching below his hip. Wanting to save myself from total embarrassment, I quickly avert my eyes.

  I fail miserably at hiding my desire when my mouth waters as my eyes roam over the planes of his carved abs. Fucking, incredible, detailed definition separates every muscle across his stomach. There is a small trail of hair that appears to begin at the bottom of his belly button and dips down into his jogging pants. I feel my chest rising and falling at a rapid rate with an indescribable need to see everything below his waistband.

  Marcus’ skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat under the dim lighting coming from the partially closed bathroom door and the glowing moon. The tip of my tongue sweeps between my lips numerous times, attempting to moisten them, but truthfully my erratic behavior is driven by an unexplainable need to taste him.

  My hands itch urgently, needing to caress every inch of him–parts visible, and the ones hidden away. Marcus is a vision of erotic fantasy novels and my need for him is like adding gasoline to an all-consuming fire, perfect agony. I just might explode if he makes the slightest movement of his fingers, against my blazing skin.

  My trembling fingers reach for his massive hands as he moves them and places them on top of the comforter, pressing them into the mattress painfully. I whimper at the sheer size of his hands, causing butterflies to bounce restlessly in my stomach.

  A vision of his callous tan grip pawing along every inch of my soft skin, the dark contrast against my pale complexion, encourages my resolve to touch and feel him. Craving like nothing I've ever recognized before guides me to take both of his hands into mine, and the sizzling begins instantly. My focus fixates on Marcus’ sexy hands as he assists me by sliding them up my thighs and hips. He shifts his knees, crawling closer to me. With his hands gripping my flesh inch by inch as he moves them behind me, the sensation becomes an urgent frenzy as he digs his fingers into the flesh of my backside. I peer up at him through my eyelashes, seeing him shudder, which confirms that he too is barely holding on to his self-control. Now is not the time for this behavior, but how do I stop what I need so desperately?

  “Marcus,” I whisper breathlessly. “I know we agreed to wait for a better time to have sex.” I pause, uncertain if I have it in me to continue talking this way to him, but he remains silent, patiently waiting for me to regain my composure. I struggle initially, but after slowing my panting to a normal rhythm, I continue with my request. “I want you to..to...touch me.” I stutter. “And I...Ohgod,” It sounds like my mouth is a skipping vinyl record and the broken words are stuck in a groove on repeat. My body trembles violently and all moisture has evaporated from my mouth. Swallowing hard, I add, “Um, I want to...” Defeated by my embarrassment and naivety, I slump forward and drop my face into my hands.

  Marcus’ hands leave my backside and the warmth that he was radiating into my body at our contact taken with them. My hands are tugged away from my face as he wraps his tenderly around my wrists. Inching closer, he pulls me near him. He places my hands against his chest and slides them up to his shoulders. A shiver runs through me when I glance up, noticing my fingertips resting on the head of his dragon tattoo. Fear of doing something foolish if I keep staring at it, I avert my eyes and stare into his. Keeping his grip firmly around my wrists, Marcus’ jade irises, scorching with white hot desire bores deeply into mine. It appears that every caress of my hands along his chest adds to the torture he is putting himself through for me.

  I stiffen my arms, attempting to stop his self-sacrificing punishment, but Marcus shakes his head slowly while tugging my wrist upward again. He slips them over the tops of his strong shoulders and up his solid neck. Removing his hands away from my wrists, he gently lays them over the top of mine, and resumes guiding them around the back of his head. He pushes my hand into his hair, and I grab onto the soft, dark locks desperately, eliciting a growl that rattles deep within his chest.

  Marcus stares passionately into my eyes. Aching desire etched into his face forces him to bite down on his bottom lip and I nearly jump into his lap at his barely contained carnal and raw desire. That is the fucking sexiest, most erotic thing I've ever seen a man do. I gradually rake my fingernails through his thick locks tugging slightly, pulling his head back.

  “Ah, fuck baby.” Marcus moans between panting out heavy breathes, “Feels so damn good.” He bites down hard on his lip again. Allowing his head to drop backward, his eyes roll back before he squeezes them shut. Finally he releases his assaulted lip, leaving his mouth parted slightly and his breath becomes uncontrollable lust-filled panting. He has lost control. A warning signal goes off in my mind.

  Marcus moves around, shifting his lower body as if he is excruciatingly uncomfortable. I glance down at his lap, finding his swollen erection is pressing against his stretched tight sweatpants. The thrill of his reaction to my aggressive behavior is enough to set my whole body on fire. Panting wildly, the desire building in me for him becomes excruciating and I know that I should stop; but I can’t. I want to feel, I need this with Marcus.

  Soft moans escape my slightly parted lips and I lick them nervously. Slowly, I slide my hands from behind his head to the side of his face, just behind his ears. My thumbnails graze over the edge of his ears, clearly inexperienced I do something that I’m not sure is acceptable. I pinch his earlobes between my thumbnail and forefinger. Marcus grabs me around the wrist roughly, bringing his gaze back down on me again.

  “You are fucking driving me wild Breesan.” Through gasping, heavy breaths he adds, “I am burning up, wanting to experience and taste all of you. My god, your touch is unlike anything I have ever felt.” I smile bashfully, blushing red with embarrassment. With shaking hands, he lifts mine before kissing them reverently. “These perfect hands are like a touch from a goddess. I have dreamed of it feeling just like this when you touch me, and I'm about to lose all my damn control. You're making it so difficult for me to be good.” The release of a loud, ragged breath emphasizes his weakness to my touch. His eyes lower to look at the bed with his head now drooping in disappointment. “I need you baby,” Marcus’ voice softens to a whisper. “And I don't think I can stop myself if we continue doing this for much longer.”

  I relent, nodding in agreement. I can't say that I'm happy about this, but Marcus is right, we need to stop. In Rhys’ house and during this hellish chaos, isn’t right for making love the first time. At least I think that's why he stops our explorations. Marcus moves away just a little, while releasing his grip on me. Disappointed, I drop my trembling hands into my lap, focusing my eyes on them. Slipping a tender finger under my chin, he lifts my face up to his gaze and searches the depths of my soul.

  “I don't know what you're thinking in that pretty little head of yours, my baby, but if you have any doubt about me wanting you…”

  Marcus doesn't finish his sentence. Instead he takes my right hand and places it on his lap. I drop my eyes seeing my hand lying on his harden cock. Suddenly whatever heat I was feeling before was merely a kindle. Now the desire is a million times more blistering.

  Instinctively sliding my hand up then down his length once, I'm startled and shriek when Marcus grabs my hand swiftly and puts it back on my lap, flinching away as
if he was burned by the link. I shyly lift my gaze up to meet his smoldering jade eyes, hearing him chuckle softly. He shakes his head no, piercing me with an unwavering stare.

  “Ohgod no,” Marcus’ voice is hoarse and his words are deliberate and breathy. “One more second of you rubbing my dick, and I will completely embarrass myself.” He smirks, continuing to lean in so damn close. Clearly his body is in control and not his mind, just like mine.

  “But, before we stop completely, I want to kiss you. I just need you to promise that you will control yourself.” He chuckles roguishly as I nod eagerly. “Because I can't control both of us after the touching we just abused each other with.”

  I'm not completely sure if I can keep this promise, but I don't want him to stop so I will agree to anything he wants. Knowing it is a damn lie and wrong, I secure my hands behind my back and he smiles down at me proudly. I feel my cheeks warm with a slight bit of embarrassment, but right this second I don't give a damn. I need to experience all of this with him.

  Cautiously rises up on his knees, Marcus’ large body towers over me and I also move gradually, mirroring his position. Facing each other, our bodies lean in simultaneously, like a force beyond our ability to see is pulling us together. I tilt my head back and wait impatiently while he teases me by moving only one damn inch at a time, lowering his face down to mine. He inhales deeply while closing his eyes, drawing strength in securely locking his hands behind his back too. He really is trying to be good and stay in control. Ohgod, I crave both his kiss and touch so wantonly.

  My heart beats frantically driving me near cardiac arrest before Marcus finally touches his warm lips to mine. He presses down a feather light kiss, barely caressing me. Sliding from the left corner of my lips to the right, he sips on every tender piece of my mouth. Sucking and tugging slowly and seductively as he goes, he uses his lips and teeth expertly. Unable to continue with his own damn slow seduction, Marcus promptly becomes more aggressive with his actions. His mouth tortures, entices, and greedily begs for more from this kiss. I groan softly at the pleasurable assault which causes him to freeze suddenly.